Passenger Seat
by Lammy
Summary: Pam picks Jim up from the airport after his trip. JAM angst.


Disclaimer: I disclaim. Exciting, isn't it?

A/N: I'm now obsessed with the song Passenger Seat by the amazing Death Cab for Cutie. This is a songfic in the loosest sense of the word. I highly suggest listening to the song while you read it, because it is highly likely that I had it on repeat the entire time I wrote it. In case you don't have it, I'll post the lyrics at the end of the fic. This is a very angsty fic, because I don't see how a happy ending can come of the whole triangle. I want a happy ending, but don't think it can really come. Sorry if you hate it!

oOoOoOo

Passenger Seat

oOoOoOo

Jim shifted feet uncomfortably, his carry-on bag digging sharply into his shoulder. Around him people were rushing about; he had always felt that airports were unforgivably busy. It was a personal philosophy of his not to hurry through things, to always take your time. This was a practice that hurt him as much as helped. Maybe if he had moved a little faster, not held himself back…maybe things would have ended differently.

As his grandma always said, "May bee's always fly away."

He was so lost in contemplating his own failings, that he didn't see her until she was standing right in front of him.

"Hi!" She exclaimed, "How was it?"

His heart did the usual acrobatics that it always did around her, but it was different this time. Final.

"Pam. Hey." Jim's voice lacked all enthusiasm.

"Oh my God, you look great! Was it wonderful? I didn't get any of the postcards you promised, but I'm sure that they're just stuck in the mail. Tell me about it!"

She was rambling as he picked all of his bags up. He looked up as she pushed a loose hair back with her left hand, and that was when he saw the ring. Nausea overwhelmed him. He was going to throw up at baggage claim.

"It was really nice. Winter down there, you know. But still…fun. Hey, thanks for picking me up."

Her false brightness faded. They began to walk to the parking garage, neither of them looking at each other.

"No problem. I can't believe that no one in your family could make it. What are they doing again?"

Jim smiled; he had actually forgotten about that lie. It had been yet another pathetic attempt of his to spend some time with her. Of course his family would have picked him up, but he didn't want them to. What he really wanted was for Pam to be his family.

"Yeah, well, you know…" was his lame reply. He readjusted the carry-on bag nervously.

Pam's eyes widened as she understood. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

She smiled a little to herself.

They reached the car and she opened the impossibly tiny trunk. Together they pushed until his two suitcases just barely squished together. Several times their hands touched, and Jim noticed that her hands lingered while his jumped back as if shocked.

"God, Halpert, you packed more than Kelly would have."

"Yeah, well, I had to make sure my hair was just right."

For the first time, Jim cracked his authentic smile, and Pam laughed out loud. Her laugh made his heart speed up, one last time. The smile slid from both of their faces, and they were left standing awkwardly. Unsure of what to do, Jim headed for the car, and Pam followed suit.

It seemed so natural, so perfect to him as they sat side by side in a car. Of course, everything that they did together felt natural and perfect to him, but obviously not to her. As she navigated the steep turns of the parking ramp, her wedding ring glittered again and again.

He still couldn't believe that it had happened, not really. He couldn't believe that after all they had been through, after all that they had meant to each other, it had still ended this way. And this was the end. He was leaving in two days for Stamford, and she was married.

Unconsciously, he put his feet on the dash and looked blankly out the window, only seeing her.

She cleared her throat and broke the silence. "Come on, Jim. It doesn't have to be like this. We can't keep ignoring the elephants in the room. Well…we could, but they are very large elephants, and I drive a very small car."

Jim laughed almost despite himself. Half against his will, he dove into the conversation.

"What is there to say? I did my best to convince you to be with me, and it wasn't enough. Roy wins."

"This isn't his fault." She whispered, and Jim hated her for a tiny second. He hated that Roy could hold her down so much, and she would still defend him to the bitter end. But that was part of who she was, and that was part of why he loved her.

"I know." His voice cracked a little. "It's my fault. I should have stayed silent. I should have pretended like nothing had happened. I'm sorry. It was just that night. And you were in that blue dress, and you looked at me across the poker table, and you looked so… so-"

"No, it's my fault."

Her tone was sharp, almost angry as she interrupted him and he was shocked into silence. Pam flicked her gaze nervously between him and the road as she talked.

"It's my fault because I wasn't brave enough to l-leave him. I…Oh God, Jim. I love…"

The strength had run out of her, and tears were running freely down her cheeks. Jim looked out the window again because he could bear to see her like this.

"I love…I love…I-I…" She was sobbing now, and Jim simply couldn't not help her. He rubbed her back soothingly, and helped guide the steering wheel so that they pulled over to the side of the road. He tried to quiet her, but the gentler he tried to be, the faster the tears came.

"Shh, it's ok Pam. You don't have to do this. Pam, it's alright. You've made your decision."

"No." She moaned and grabbed at him almost wildly, pressing her face against his chest as she cried. When she finally quieted enough to speak, her words came out hurried and broken. "I love you. But I couldn't tell him, and I couldn't tell you, and now…now you're leaving me, and I think I'm going to die tomorrow when I go to the office and you're not there."

Fresh tears fell, soaking through his shirt. Jim held her and whispered things to calm her, but he had no idea what to say, because it was all true.

Desperately, she lifted her lips to his and kissed him. He pushed her back firmly. Slowly, Pam regained her composure and pulled away from him, horrified. Before she could apologize, he interrupted her.

"Pam, I love you so much," his face was screwed up in an effort not to cry with her, "but we can't do…this. Choices were made by both of us, and you have a husband at home who, despite his many...many faults, loves you. Really loves you."

Pam took a shuddering breath and counted to ten before asking the question she was the most afraid of.

"So how does this end?"

"You go home to Roy, and I got to Stamford. And no one wins."

She snorted a laugh. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Jim smiled with her. "Isn't it?"

His hand reached out across the seat and grabbed hers. "Maybe…"

He turned her hand over and stroked her fingers and palm with his own.

"Maybe we pretend, just for the rest of this car ride, that you really had chosen me. That we were together. That life had worked out the way it does in the movies. Maybe we could do that."

A sniff escaped her as she willed herself not to cry again. "I could do that."

The both leaned their heads onto the cushion of the seatback and smile at each other. Their hands clasped tighter.

They didn't talk much the rest of the way home, just held hands. One more sentence from either of them would have broken them both all over again. Jim has her stop to see a shooting star, and they both make a wish. They both know that it won't come true.

Pam pulled up to his house, and they pry his luggage loose again.

"Well…" he said, unsure of how to really say goodbye.

"Well." She answered, avoiding eye contact.

Quickly, he cupped her face in his hands and bent down to give her one last, soft kiss. She was crying again when he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers, not letting go of her face.

"This isn't the way I thought it would end." She whispered to him.

Jim straightened and picked up his luggage. He could feel her watching him as he walked away from her.

He turned and tried to give her a smile.

"No, but at least it's an ending."

oOoOoOo

Pam shifts uncomfortably, willing herself not to look back at the house that held so many memories. She can still hear the yelling from the night before, when her entire world crashed around her for a second time in her life. She had thought saying goodbye to Jim would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do. It broke her heart that she was wrong.

The red Corolla rolls up, and she almost looses it because she's so happy that he still drives that dumb car, and is so terribly embarrassed to be seen like this, with her suitcases all around her in the snow and her hair and clothes a mess and no makeup. Not that he cares.

"Hey." She manages in a voice that is cracked and beaten.

"Hey. Sorry you're stuck with me driving you."

She gives him a little smile because he's the only one she wants to drive her anywhere and he nods.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The memories flood back to both of them of the same conversation, almost a year and a half ago. The fact that he gave up part of his family Christmas to drive her to her parent's house is too amazing for her to fully comprehend in her diminished state. She simply complies as he guides her to the passenger seat and buckles her seatbelt around her. He rushes to back everything snuggly in the trunk and back seat before running to the drivers side.

A half hour goes by without any conversation besides her directing him to turn left onto the highway.

Finally, Jim turns to her.

"You want to talk about it?"

She opens her mouth and tries to, but the words won't come out. Instead, she simply shakes her head and looks out the window. He tries the radio, but impossibly happy carols are on every station, so he gives up. They ride on in silence.

Pam thinks back to her daydreams from when she was little. She remembers her obsession with Jane Austen when she was seventeen. She was so sure that she was going to have a big love, like they did in the romantic novels that she would read. She had been so sure that she had already found it. What had happened to that dream? Had she sacrificed it like every other dream she had ever held?

Looking over at Jim, she finds that she can tell him after all.

"I have this thing about hands."

Her sudden voice scares Jim, making him jump a little, but he nods as though he actually understands where she's coming from with this.

"I like to draw them. Hands show the most about a person; whether they do manual work or white-collar, whether they can afford manicures or not. Half of my sketch book is filled with me and Roy holding hands. It's always been me and Roy, since I started drawing them. About two months ago, I realized that I wasn't drawing Roy's hand anymore. The fingers were too long; the tips not callused at all. I kept drawing hands holding across a car seat. I figured this out two months ago; Roy decides to figure it out on Christmas Eve."

She doesn't say anymore, because there's nothing left to say. Jim stares at the road, forcing himself not to look at her. He had desperately wanted this to not be about him, for it to be a natural dissolution of two people who just weren't right for marriage. She stares out at the fields that were passing. Blindly, their hands find each other and hold tight.

They pull into her parent's house as dusk is falling. Her dad rushes out to take her bags, and Pam turns to Jim. They are standing so close that the clouds that form from their breath blend together.

"This isn't how I wanted it to end." She tells him with a sad smile.

He turns to stare at the sky, with his hands buried deep in his pockets. She looks up, too, and they see the first star come out.

"No," he answers, looking at her. "This isn't an end, Pam. For you, this is a whole new beginning."

oOoOoOo

Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie:

I roll the window down  
and then begin to breathe  
the darkest country road  
and the strong scent of evergreen  
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Then looking upwards  
I strain my eyes and try  
to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites  
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

"Do they collide?"  
I ask and you smile.  
With my feet on the dash  
the world doesn't matter.

When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride.  
When you need directions then I'll be the guide  
for all time.  
For all time.


End file.
